Bitter
by dancingpen808
Summary: Dean Winchester is bitter. His whole life has been nothing but crap. But can one angel help him see the good?
1. Chapter 1

The air was bitter and Dean could taste the lemony sting of disinfectant as he turned to look beside him. Small strips of streaked tan wicker poked out from the back of the empty chair that sat next to his bed, a poor attempt at making the unforgiving hospital room a little less hopeless. The sheets that rested on his body were crisply tucked in at the sides and the baby blue hospital gown he wore was a little more papery, a little less soft than he was used to. Dean had been in a lot of hospitals in his time but this one felt different. This one felt worse.

A small steel side table sat in the corner and Sam's jacket lay in a crumpled pile upon it. Subconsciously, Dean reached for the small gold amulet that always rested around his neck. It wasn't there, of course, but even so Dean felt a bitter stab of worry as he wondered where it had gone before his fingers against the rough fibers of the hospital gown reminded him of his situation.

As he lowered his arm to his side, a sharp pain raked through it and Dean brought it to his eye. He turned it in confusion, not seeing any visible wound when he noticed a small mark on the inside of his elbow. He brought his thumb to the blemish and traced it slightly. It was shaped like a sigil, and probably Enochian. Enochian, which meant angels.

A sudden, unrequited bubble of hope rose in Dean's chest. He forced it down, a skill he had become quite adept at in his years as a hunter. Hope was for the weak. Hope was for the ones who got there heads chopped off mid- battle. Hope was what got people killed. Of course, it had gotten Dean killed a few times, too. He wondered if that's what had happened this time, if he had died and Sam had made some goddamn deal with some goddamn demon that they'd have to track down and kill. Or maybe it had been an angel.

The flash of hope rose again. Dean gritted his teeth.

It felt like the world's worst hangover and being smote by an angel all at once as Dean tried to remember what happened. All he knew was the small brown sigil on the underside of his arm.

He threw back the sheets trapping him to the cot and rested his feet on the hard tile. Something made him want to stay there. Something told Dean, for once, to just give up. To not sneak down the hallway and do recon. To sit back and rest and heal like a normal fucking human being.

"Well you're not a normal fucking human being," Dean whispered to himself under his breath as he brought himself to his feet resignedly.

"No, you're not." Dean would have jumped at the sudden voice in the room if he didn't know it so well. If he didn't dream of the deep intonations that came with it and the dark tousled hair and that damn trench coat.

"Cas." Dean stated, simply. He heard Cas' steps echo slightly against the floor as he stepped around to the other side of the bed to face Dean.

The angel's face was weary. That was the first thing Dean noticed as he looked up. Lines of worry had etched their way into his pale skin and his piercing eyes seemed a little less cutting, a little more downcast than usual. A scratch traced its way across Cas' cheek and Dean noted fresh bloodstain on the ever-present blue tie.

The silence continued.

Cas opened his mouth hesitantly, as if to say something, then closed it abruptly. Dean worked his jaw once or twice before asking, unintentionally curtly, "What happened?"

He could almost see Cas wince at his tone and inwardly Dean did too. But there was no taking it back.

"You and Sam were hunting something. A Shtriga, I think. You were the bait. It was feeding on you and Sam was about to shoot it when another one came into the room. You hadn't realized there were two. He shot it instead and you died." Cas hesitated for a second, and lowered his gaze. He continued on, his voice a little lower and a little more harsh. "Sam prayed to me that night, asking me to bring you back." Dean snorted at that. So he was right. The angel cast a quizzical glance at Dean, perturbed by his bust of laughter, but continued. "So, I did." He finished.

"Right. Well. Thanks." Dean glanced up again at Cas, who had been staring at him. He quickly flicked his eyes away.

"It is no trouble," he stated formally. Dean studied Cas quizzically. Had he done something to make him mad?

"No, really, man. I don't know how many times you've saved our asses and we've never even said thank you. Sam and I, we need you man. We wouldn't be alive without you." Cas' lips parted again but it seemed he didn't know what to say.

"No, you wouldn't." He spoke finally. Dean grinned and turned away.

"Dean?" Cas asked. His voice seemed vulnerable and wavered slightly.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"I need you too." Dean turned to respond but Cas was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Bitter: Chapter 2**

Checking out of the hospital had been quick. Sam and Dean had been in and out of medical centers for their whole lives. Second to motels, hospitals had to be the place the two had spent most of their childhood. Kind of depressing, when you think about it.

Sam showed up a few minutes after Cas had popped in. Before long the two were in the Impala, headed back for the bunker.

"So. What do you remember?" Sam asked Dean, avoiding eye contact.

"Don't even try. Cas already told me what happened," Dean responded, his eyes on the road.

"Cas already spoke to you?" Dean glanced over, a little confused.

"Yeah, why?" Sam ran a lazy hand through his hair and looked out the passenger window, a crease forming between his brows.

"Well since I asked him to bring you back I haven't seen him."

"Well did you ask to see him?"

"Ask to see him? What do you mean?"

"Y'know, pray to him, I guess."

"No, not really. I guess I see your point." Dean nodded, his eyes still fixed on the road. The rest of the car ride passed in silence, each brother contemplating their own individual mysteries.

When they arrived at the bunker, the windows shone with amber light and through the door they could here the faint babble of daytime soap operas.

"Dammit Sammy did you let Crowley out?" Dean accused, spinning to Sam with a scowl on his face.

"What? No," Sam responded. He pulled his gun from his waistband and strode around Dean. "C'mon."

When they spun into the room, guns pointed in front of them, they were greeted not by a poncy British demon but instead with a familiar angel wearing a tattered tan coat, his hair sticking up at crazy angels.

"Sam. Dean." Cas said formally as he stood from the sofa he had been sitting on, apparently watching some junk called "_Days of our Lives." _ Dean rushed to shut the television off.

"Hi Cas." Sam said warily. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if I could stay with the two of you for a few nights."

"Uh, sure, but why?" Sam asked, closing the door behind him and Dean.

"The spell I used to bring Dean back is a new one to me and we might not be aware of all of the side effects. I thought it might be opportune for me to spend some time watching over him in close proximity in order to make sure nothing…unfavorable…is to happen." Sam looked over at Dean, his eyebrows raised in a silent shrug, indicating it was Dean's call.

"Sure, Cas. We'll get you set up in one of the guest rooms." Cas nodded in thanks and cast his eyes to the floor. Dean inwardly sighed. "Sam, show him his room. I'm gonna go collapse." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cas look up and his eyes flash with hurt but at this point Dean didn't know what was happening with Cas. Dean had just died, for gods sake. He deserved to be cut a little slack.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bitter: Chapter 3**

"He's crying again, Dean."

"What?" Dean opened his eyes and groggily stared at the dark ceiling, wondering why he was awake at this goddamn hour. Glancing over to the doorframe, he saw a familiar silhouette and almost smiled.

"Sam. He's crying again," Cas repeated.

"Oh," Dean replied simply. "Sorry. There's nothing we can do. It's probably Jess."

"Jess?" Cas inquired with a twist of his head

"Sam's old girlfriend. She's what brought him back into the world of hunting. He was in love with her, but this demon called Azazel ganked her on the ceiling like he did with Mom. Sam still hasn't moved on."  
"How many years has it been?" Cas entered the room cautiously, a moonbeam lighting his face highlighting the quizzical tilt of his head and a squint in his eyes.

"Must be going on 9, man."

"How can Sam still grieve for her loss?

"He loved her." Cas stared for a moment at Dean, uncomprehending. Dean sighed and carried on. " Love, it…it makes you mad. It grabs your heart and shreds it to pieces and engulfs you so totally and completely that its all you can think about, its all you care about and its all you know. All you know is this one sliver of an emotion, this one current of hope and you cling onto it, damn it, because it's all you know."

"Why would someone do that to themselves?"

"What?" Dean met Cas' eye.

"That mindlessness, that helplessness. Why would someone let that happen?"

"I don't know. I guess you can't stop it, Cas. It grabs you and doesn't let go. "

"Oh." Dean rolled over in bed, hoping Cas would take the cue and leave.

"Dean?" Dean sighed.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

Dean's lips quickly formed the well-practiced syllable that had always been his answer to the question. No. But now he hesitated. Now he wasn't sure that was true.

"No," he finished, finally. Cas was silent for another moment.

"Oh." And then he was gone.


End file.
